


The Patience of Arthur Weasley

by MSW_Skule



Series: Knowing the unknowable [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Corruption, Gen, Magic, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Old Gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSW_Skule/pseuds/MSW_Skule
Summary: Arthur Weasley seeks knowledge of his own son.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley
Series: Knowing the unknowable [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083926
Kudos: 3





	The Patience of Arthur Weasley

If you were to ask Arthur Weasley when he had noticed a distinct change in his youngest son, he probably wouldn't answer right away. He would say, "well the lads' always been a bit odd!" Or maybe," he was always a very quiet child, always looking side to side, instead of forward. Nasty habit, left him bumping into walls!" And you might laugh at the oddity. Arthur certainly would.

But Arthur Weasley would not speak to you of the disappearance of those very same walls. He would not broach the subject of his Ron fixing things that weren't broken, of the stunted madness peeking past blue( and green and grey and gold) eyes. Eyes so unlike any wizard Arthur had known. Molly had for some years believed the boy taken for the Fae. Arthur Weasley did not think so.

When Ron was five, Arthur took him to his own mother, Cedrella Weasley nee Black. "You only come to me when you need my help, eldest son of mine" there is no fire in her accusation, and though it's become more true over the years, no steel coats her tongue. He can tell by the wrinkles around her eyes she's only poking. " There's something otherworldly about the child, and you'll be wanting to know what. Callidora may have had a better gift for scrying, but she's dead and I'm not." She takes Ron's chin in her hand, firmly but not unkindly, "offspring of mine own get, peer into my eyes, I'll be having the right of you, child." 

She flinches. 

"A yawning Maw, wide enough to swallow all", his mother turned from him. Eyes crazed, hair whitening, nails growing, she fled the room.

He pushed his hand through his remaining hair, "what am I to do with you my son?"

"Pray that the norns have not the patience to write my life in an interesting manner?"

"Aye, and a spot of lunch I think wouldn't go amiss." 

* * *

After calming his mother, he and Ron popped down to the Hog's Head. Arthur had always preferred the quiet and the grim, so he felt right at home, though he certainly looked out of place, with his tweed jacket and easy smile. 

Another such soul, citrus sour, candy sweet, sits across the table. Albus, for all his wide grinned eccentricity, was not mad. 

And yet.

Dumbledore the bee had said nothing but gibberish and nonsense from the moment he had taken his seat. 'Twas not troll, nor gobbeltigoop, nor mermish. It was English, though not the Queen's English by any measure or means.

Arthur decided he wouldn't mention it as Albus hadn't seemed to notice he was not making any sense. As the headmaster finished waxing poetic on the hubris of the stars, the pain of the sky's pride, Mr. Weasley wiped his mouth, thanked his former teacher for meeting with them and shuffled his youngest son out into the brisk Scottish air.

They walked out of the village proper down towards the forbidden forest.

He paused, and for just a hint of a moment, nearly ran into the forest. He could find a circle of toadstools, cast his net of magic and word, and seek answers. But he knew that way lay madness. Fairy knew men, man no longer knew the Fae. It was for the best not to disturb the sleeping courts.

Arthur Weasley knelt and hugged his son.

As he stood, he took Ron's hand and apparated them to Diagon Alley. A single scoop of double mint chocolate in a spun suger cone had him feeling right as rain. Ron ate his ice cream slowly, each bite a different colour and his intentions plain on his face. 

He was a child in every way that mattered. A little more intense, or a bit more magical, than most. Arthur didn't find any need to add a 'but' to his last thought. Molly might not agree, his mother might as well have named her grandson Old One-

**Oh**. 

_**Well shit.** _

Something clicked and the insight pulled at the inside of his skull, understanding and horror wormed it's way past his sense of reality and- 

He didn't care. He would continue to raise Ron to be the best wizard he could. Arthur closed his eyes and steadied himself. As he breathed, nausea and anxiety fled from him. He let the last chocolate filled bite of cone rejuvenate his magic.

* * *

Once Ron had finished, they went home. Arthur called all his children together, away from their mother, and told them of the olde magiks, asleep and dreaming. He told them of their oldest history and the Old God's fervor and depravity. He spoke of those terrible things from beyond the veil, and betwixt the worlds, that threw off the yoke off the old and scattered it's magic between all the humes of the Earth.

"And we grew and became what we are. But the terrible things sleep because they know when they will wake. Once we are more, they will come, and feast, and humes will return to nothing."

_"Ad'nnayi Ry'loth fegh d'atu wohv"._

As his children recoil by candle light, Ron's eyes become wide and full of appreciation, Arthur smiles and bids his children to wash before dinner.

He takes Ron and Ginny and assures them different is not wrong and no matter how old or new their magic is, they are family first.

Ginny, young as she is, takes this to heart for all her days.

Ron decides at that moment, under the black of night, that even the stars in all their hubris and fury would not stand against his family.

**Author's Note:**

> Authors note: another weird bit that kept banging around my noggin until I posted it. I will continue this idea, in a separate post.


End file.
